Chapter 9

Sitting at a dead stop on Route 9, her eyes darting between the dashboard clock and the flashing red lights of the school bus in front of her, Michelle was calculating whether she had enough time swing through the Dunkin Donuts for a latte and still make it to the office before Julie. She was startled when the music cut off, replaced by a loud ringing noise, and pressed the animated telephone icon on the dashboard next to the word “Mom.”

“Hi Mom,” Michelle said to the dashboard, relieved that it wasn’t Julie calling.

“How’s my favorite Junior Accountant, Audit Division?” her mother asked, reading Michelle’s title off of the freshly minted, embossed business card she sent to her parents.

“Pretty good, I guess,” Michelle replied with a sigh, as she drove past the Dunkin Donuts, the latte decision having been made by her mother’s call.

“And Miss Julie Carrigan McGee,” her mother inquired with a tone of jealousy in her voice, intentionally mispronouncing the name that she heard Michelle go on and on about in glowing detail, since her interview, “does she still walk on water and breed cancer curing unicorns?”

“It’s Covington McGill, mom,” Michelle corrected, “and she’s not without her flaws,” blushing as the images of her specific flaws started flooding back into Michelle’s mind with that statement.

“What’s the matter, is she working my little girl like a dog?” Michelle’s mom said with a lilt, assuming her daughter’s image of her boss was being affected by her current workload.

“WHAT?” Michelle replied a little too emphatically, stunned at the ironic accuracy of her mother’s cliche.

“Honey, you knew that job was going to be a lot of work,” her mother counseled, “and remember how much you told me you could learn from Jennifer Coventry McGovern?” Her mother couldn’t help but tease. “Besides, while she’s not a male, she is still the alpha dog in that firm, and a self-made woman, so just follow her lead, and she’ll probably show you things you could never learn anywhere else.”

“Again with the dog reference,” Michelle thought to herself, wondering if her mother could read her guilty conscience through the cell towers.

“As always mom,” Michelle replied, “you have no idea what you’re talking about, but somehow you’re absolutely right.”

“I know I am dear,” Michelle’s mother said, choosing not to acknowledge the backhanded compliment, “let her train you, and you’ll definitely get everything you want in the end.”

“Yes Mom,” came Michelle’s monotone lectured child reply, which she had perfected since around the age of thirteen.

“And remember what you told me about their year-end compensation?”, Michelle’s mother said enthusiastically, “if you’re loyal and follow her orders, you might wind up with a big, fat bonus, fit for a king!”

“Oh my god!” Michelle exclaimed, her mother’s last remark sending another jolt of electricity directly to her pussy, encased in the King-soiled panties. “I’m at work now ... gotta go ... love ya!”

“Love you too, dear,” her mother replied, but Michelle hit the End Call button before her full sentence was finished, as she pulled into the Smith & McGill parking area, which was empty, except for one other car, the large, gold Lexus parked under the sign, “Reserved for JCM.”